The Business - Chapter Two

March 20th, 2002

Patrick wasn’t sure when he passed out, but when he awoke his arms felt as if they were on fire and his body screamed for release. His first thought was to attempt at breaking the rope again, but as he began to sway he found his strength was sapped. He felt like a ragdoll. “Hey!” He shouted out weakly. Patrick tried jerking on the rope once more, and became suddenly aware of the pipe that still rested in his ass.

Suddenly he heard a door unlatch, then soft footsteps, and his door open. “Quiet down, they’ll hear you.” A girlish voice from behind him whispered. “I am here to let you down so you can have a meal. However, I will have to string you back up afterwards. If you attempt to attack me then the consequences will be fatal. Do you understand, Patrick?” Her German was terrible, but he got the jest of what she was saying.

“Sure, whatever.” He muttered as he tried to turn and face the girl. He didn’t have to do much of the work as she came around his left. She was a Korean girl, with shoulder-length straight ebony hair and high cheek bones. She stood about 5’5’’ and looked no older than sixteen. Patrick watched as she went to the wall and untied to rope from a metal loop in the wall. As she let it slowly move through her hands Patrick felt himself being lowered. He fell to his knees then slipped on his side, too exhausted to hold himself up. She went to him and unlocked the cuffs, letting his arms fall.

“Let me grab your food.” She whispered softly and went to the door, taking up the tray she had left on the step. As she did so Patrick reached behind himself and grasped the metal pipe, intending to pull it out. The girl rushed over and quickly took a hold of his wrist. “No, I was ordered to make sure you left it in.”

Patrick looked at her, annoyance obvious. After a few seconds of debating whether or not to pull it out anyways, and maybe stab her with it, he moved his hand from the pipe and nodded.

“Thank you. Take this.” The girl said, handing him a cup of water. Patrick eagerly grabbed the drink, gulping it down. “And this.” She said, handing him a bowl of chicken soup and four crackers. He sat up the best he could but found it impossible to sit correctly because of the instrument in his ass. He moved to his knees and took the tray.

“My name is Breeze.” The woman mumbled, looking away towards the door.

“I am Patrick.” He replied, eating a spoonful of the soup.

“Listen, I better prepare you for what will happen in the next following days.” She inhaled loudly and looked away, playing with her hair. “They’ll be vicious, Patrick. If you just obey their orders it will go by quickly. They will probably beat you, but not badly if you just submit. And, well, they will use you in every way possible.”

“You expect me to just accept this, to just say okay?” He looked out her as if she were psychotic.

“If you want to survive in this world, you have no choice. I am sorry.”

“So, in long-terms, what happens later?” Patrick said, pushing the now empty tray aside.

“We do not kn-”

“We?”

“Well, yes, there are multiple slaves. But as I was say-”

“How many?”

Breeze rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. It was at that time that Patrick noticed she was wearing only wearing a green t-shirt and matching short shorts. “Eight, including you. Now, let me finish.” She brushed a stray hair from her face. “You could be sold at auction, or if Master Petrovsky takes a liking to you then you will remain at the house and entertain his guests and employees.”

“Is that what you all do?”

“Yes.”

“How much?”

“Almost every day. Sometimes multiple times or with multiple clients.”

“And you just.. do it?”

“Yes.”

“You’re insane.”

“I disagree..”

“You’re weak.”

“That’s okay.” She took his empty tray and put it on the step in front of the door. “Stand up, please.” Breeze asked politely. After a few attempts at moving to his feet Patrick gripped the wall and pulled himself up. “Move to the middle of the room.” Again he moved, slow of course, the instrument and the cracked ribs made walking uncomfortable. Breeze grabbed the rope and pulled, hard, jerking Patrick’s arms above his head and stretching him out. “I don’t want to do this. I am sorry.” Breeze grabbed the tray and opened the door, exiting the room.

“Hey, what does that mean? Hey!” He shouted, twisting and moving against the cuffs, trying to free himself. A minute later and Breeze had returned, rolling in a cart of assorted items. Patrick did not like what he saw.

Laid out on the top shelf were several vibrators, dildos, and other items Patrick was unfamiliar with. On the bottom shelf of the cart was a large, plastic tub of what looked to be whips, chains, and other instruments of torture. Patrick’s eyes widened and he struggled furiously against the rope. “What are you doing? What are you doing?” He repeated over and over, tears springing to his eyes.

“Following orders.” Breeze replied, not bothering to look up at him. She pulled the tub out and grasped a large, black whip which was more than two feet long. Breeze turned to him, a sad look on her face. Patrick wouldn’t realize it t’ill much later, but she was silently crying. “Forgive me, Patrick.” She whispered before pulling the whip back, allowing it to unravel, and striking.

Patrick jumped, crying out as a streak of welts appeared across his shoulder and down his chest. Just as the pain turned to a dull throb Breeze hit him again, leaving a string of welts across the other shoulder and down his chest. “Stop! Please!” He begged, trying to move out of the way of the next several hits, but to no avail. Breeze walked around him, striking out with each step. Soon enough he felt his back swell with cuts and bruises. Patrick could feel trails of blood leaking down his legs, gathering on his toes, and dripping to the floor below him. Breeze took a step back and tossed the whip off to the side. She headed over to the cart and grabbed a dildo. It was only four inches long but about three inches around. She came back to Patrick, now facing him.

“Open your mouth.” She demanded.

“Fuck you.” He growled, a fire burning in his eyes. Breeze looked hurt momentarily, but quickly regained her cold demeanor. She headed back to the cart, grabbing a whip with metal ball bearings connected on every inch. “Wait! I am sorry! No, no!” Breeze stopped, turned to him and shoved the short but fat dildo into his mouth.

“You are a slave, Patrick. You say no to no one. Not me and not Master. Do you understand?” Patrick nodded, sobbing once more. “Good. Now, don’t let that drop from your mouth.” Breeze walked behind him and grabbed the metal pipe, sliding it out. Patrick bit down on the dildo, muffling a scream. His asshole was tight and not lubricated, causing it to roughly tear at his skin as Breeze worked it in and out. Patrick could not see her but he heard her fall to her knees behind him. Suddenly he heard a hacking noise, as if she were spitting. Then it hit him; she was wetting the pipe in an attempt to give him some relief. Though Patrick was thankful, he still wanted to kick her in the guts.

He looked up at the ceiling, towards the dim light above him. He did not know how long she worked the object in and out of him, but it felt like an eternity.

At one point he felt the pipe leave him completely, and for an instant he believed it was all over. And then, just like that, it was quickly shoved into him again, causing a new wave of tears to rush down his face. Breeze became more violent, pulling it out completely and then shoving with all the force in the world. But, finally, it was over and she was moving away and over to the cart, dropping the discarded pipe onto the top shelf. Patrick did his best to hiccup back the sobs, but the pain was unbearable. “Master will be in here later to speak with you. I suggest you obey everything he tells you.” She removed the dildo from Patrick’s mouth and grabbed the whip she threw on the floor. She stacked it onto the top of the cart and left the room, leaving Patrick weak and desolate.


“Can I get you anything? A magazine, or maybe a book from the library? Or are you thirsty?” Dazzle asked Basil, sitting on the edge of the younger boy’s bed. “I think there is some soda in the fridge. Do you want Pibb or Coke?”

“I am fine, Dazzle. Just tired.” Basil muttered, throwing the quilt over himself, up to his nose. Dazzle reached down and touched the back of his hand to Basil’s forehead.

“Your warm, you feeling well?” Dazzle asked, worry-creases appearing on his forehead.

“Of course not!” Basil shouted, irritated. “I was just fucked by over twenty men yesterday! Gimme some space!”

Dazzle drew back, hurt. “Fine, Basil. Fine.” He rushed from the room, down the hall, and straight into Mistress Demi.

“What the hell do you think you are doing?” She screeched, smacking him hard. Dazzle reached his hand to his red cheek, unsure how to proceed.

“I- I..” He stuttered before dropping to his knees before her. “Forgive me, mistress.”

“Strip, slave.” Without hesitation Dazzle stripped his clothes, laying them in a pile. “Lay out on your back.” Dazzle again performed this order. “Now stroke yourself, slave.” Feeling great shame and humiliation, the slave took hold of his long, however thin, dick and began to move his hand up and down. “Remain in this position until I return. Do not stop. You better not fucking cum before I return.” And with that Mistress Demi left him in the middle of the hallway, stroking himself just on the brink of ecstasy.


“Where’s Rusty?” Pink asked Lotus as she flipped through the channels on the television. Five-hundred channels and nothing decent.

“He has a client at four. I think he left with Jack already.” Lotus replied, glancing at the door suspiciously. From the living area you could easily hear the screams of Patrick as Breeze violated him. It was hard not to take notice.

“It’s hardly ten o’clock, why would he be leaving that early?” Pink asked, acting oblivious to the shouts from below.

“Out of country, from what I have heard. Some heiress or something.” Lotus shrugged.

“Man, they sure do like Brazilian boys, huh?”

“Yep, lucky us.”

“What do you mean?” Pink asked, glancing over at him.

“We’re European, and in Europe. Clients here are used to our type, they want variety. Why do you think Breeze and Rusty are asked for more than us?”

“I have never asked, Lotus. But what are you?”

“Polish.”

“Basil?”

“He is from Sweden.”

“Dazzle?”

“French.”

“What about Fauna?”

“She is Romanian.”

“Her features are much different than our own, even if she is European.”

Lotus looked at Pink as if she were dumb. “Yes,” he drawled. “But getting a pretty Romanian girl is easy. Brothers are selling their sisters. Fathers are selling their daughters. Even if they are virgins, a Romanian man is always willing to sell.”

“Did a family member sell Fauna?”

“Probably.”

“She never told you?”

“I haven’t asked? Does it look like were best friends?”

“Well.. no. But she has been here almost as long as you, I figured ...


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